Semper Frater Meus
by Princess Tyler Briefs
Summary: Someone wants the attention of NCIS, and they got it in the worst way. With a team member missing and time running out, some members of the team are forced to reevaluate their thoughts and feelings. Mystery, action, explosions, and Tony/Tim friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I admit, I haven't seen very many episodes of NCIS. Not for lack of trying, I just seem to always catch the same ones. However, I'm going to try this, and hope it works out.

In addition to new characters, I'm doing a new genre. Experiments for the win?

My Latin is rusty, like whoa, but I'm ninety percent sure I got all the conjugation right. The title roughly translates to "Always my Brother".

Special thanks go out to _**Enthusiastic Fish**_ for beta reading this for me. This wouldn't be half as good without the help. She's the crazy one that came up with the end scene, not me.

**Disclaimer:** CBS owns these characters. I'm just wishing I did.

**Summary:** Someone wants the attention of NCIS, and they got it in the worst way. With a team member missing and time running out, some members of the team are forced to reevaluate their thoughts and feelings. Mystery, action, explosions, and Tony/Tim friendship all with a light dusting of McAbby.

_**Semper Frater Meus  
By: Reggie**_

_Chapter 1/1_

"It will not be a perp that kills you, Tony," Ziva observed, her accent made thicker by the obvious disgust in her voice. "It will be your choice in foods."

Tony glanced up at her, grinning around the mouthful of greasy cheese pizza that was trying to escape from his teeth.

Ziva turned her head away from her partner, finding she couldn't keep watching the yellow grease dribble down his face. "I was not aware food like that was served this early in the morning."

"It's usually not, but I've got some connections." Tony swallowed thickly, wiping his fingers on the edge of the pizza box.

"Another one of your horrid girls, then, Tony?"

Looking offended, Tony rolled his chair over to Ziva's desk, making sure to lay greasy fingers on the least important looking papers on her desk. "Now that's just mean. You haven't even met her and you're calling her horrid."

"I don't have to. If she's doing favors for you that tells me enough." Ziva glared at the smudges left on her desk, grabbing a tissue to lift Tony's hand away. "Anyone here would tell you the same thing."

"Well, I'd say let's ask the Probie, but someone is late today." Tony couldn't help grinning at McGee's empty chair. "I find it hard to believe McGeek got lucky last night. What do you think is really keeping him? Get his tie stuck in his typewriter?"

"You never get tired of the same jokes," Ziva smiled sweetly. "And you do not give McGee enough credit. I think his car broke down and he is stuck on a bus."

"Either way, he should have called in by now," Gibbs muttered, striding through. The office had only been open for fifteen minutes, and already he needed another cup of coffee. "Try his cell, DiNozzo."

"Already did, Boss. Nada." Tony turned his head to whisper with Ziva, though he knew full well Gibbs would hear him anyway no matter what he did. "That's why I developed the typewriter theory."

"How many times have I told him to always be reachable?" Gibbs asked as he moved back the other way towards his desk, this time with a cup of coffee that had mysteriously appeared from somewhere. Anyone who didn't know him better would have thought he was pacing. His team didn't think. They knew.

"One hundred and fifty seven, Boss," Tony put in cheerfully, sliding back to his desk and flipping open his personal e-mail. He could get in trouble for checking it at work, technically, but McGee had managed to convince him that girls got less creeped out if you gave them your e-mail instead of your phone number. Something about it being a less personal first step. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working. Not that he was ever going to tell that to the Probie.

"McGee is not you, Tony. He is much more responsible." Ziva paused in her typing to glance over at him. "You are just trying to make him look bad, yes?"

"Would I do something like that to the Probie? Don't answer that." A few more clicks brought up Tony's inbox. It had all the standard default setting. McGee had refused to help him customized it, and bribed Abby with a year's worth of Cafe-Pows to do the same. Still, it did its job. Or what he thought its job was supposed to be.

The one new message in his inbox took Tony by surprise. It wasn't from the girl he'd given the address to last night. It was from McGee.

Brief thoughts of a crippling computer virus that would have him at the younger agent's mercy in a matter of minutes flashed through Tony's mind. Sure, all e-mails were scanned before they could be checked on the NCIS computers, but if McGee could hack other government agencies, he could do theirs. Probably easier since he knew it so well. McGee was always careful, though, to not let his, limited, retaliation at Tony interfere with work. He was still too afraid of Gibbs, and unsure of his status on the team, to try it.

Mentally reassured that Probie was still Probie, and just a little curious why McGee would bother to e-mail if he was late instead of just call, Tony opened it. Instead of some rambling note about how he'd accidently run over his phone, or something, the e-mail contained a link and the simple words _'thought you would enjoy this'._

"Weird," Tony said aloud as he clicked again. Ziva glanced at him but said nothing.

The link opened up to a video, and Tony turned down his speakers while it loaded. There wasn't any writing on the page, just the player, and Tony felt his special agent senses tingling. Something about this felt weird.

The video must have finished loading, or whatever it was doing, because it seemed to jump in in the middle of the clip. The camera was shaking, like it was really windy or the guy holding it was running. Had been running. It was a news report, he recognized the woman holding the mike.

Behind her, an apartment building was on fire. It was nicer than Tony's but not by much. Red brick. Square. Unassuming and uninteresting. A sign in the corner caught his attention, and Tony felt his breath catch as he read it. Silver Springs. McGee's apartment complex. McGee's building.

"Uh…boss…" Tony started, but didn't quite finish, instead turning up his speakers again as Gibbs and Ziva made their way over to peer at his screen.

"The fire seems to have started," the reporter said, her voice frantic in a way reporters only got over breaking news—part excitement, part dread, "with an explosion in apartment number three of this building. The Fire Marshall has not confirmed whether or not anyone was home at the time. The neighboring apartment buildings are currently being evacuated while crews attempt to put out the flames."

"Is that not McGee's apartment?" Ziva asked slowly.

Gibbs leaned down so he was looking at almost the same level as Tony. "Where'd you get this, DiNozzo?"

"McGee sent it to me." Which sounded weird, because it was McGee's apartment that was on fire, so how did he have a computer, and just what the hell did he mean he would enjoy it? He loved winding McGee up, sure, but never enjoyed seeing him actually hurt ever.

"Or someone using McGee's e-mail," Ziva supplied seriously, her face concerned.

"You don't just hack the Probster, Ziva. That'd be like…" Tony fumbled for an appropriate movie reference, but for once came up blank. Instead, he settled on something more familiar. "It'd be like hacking Abby. You don't just do that."

"But it's been done," Gibbs said darkly.

Three pairs of eyes shot down to the corner of the screen when a little blue box popped up, simple unbelievable words popped up. New message from McGoogle, Tony's own personal favorite variation of McGee's name.

Looking uncertain, Tony turned his head to look at the man still leaning over his shoulder. "Boss?"

"Open it," Gibbs muttered, squeezing Tony's chair tightly.

The body of the message was blank, as was the subject line. It took Tony a moment to locate what had been sent at all. Another video, this one attached instead of a link. More flashes of some virus that would allow the other person complete access through the NCIS system came to mind, this time without the reassuring thought that McGee wouldn't do that. It seemed less likely that this was McGee, that they might be able to out hack McGee, and that wasn't a comfortable thought at all. "Should I scan it or something, Boss?"

"Open it now. We'll deal later." Gibbs voice was determined, almost angry, and Tony didn't bother to question it again.

They stared at the black screen for several tense moments before Gibbs spoke again. "What's it doing?"

"It's loading, Boss." In spite of the situation, Tony couldn't help smiling. He disliked computers, sure, but at least he was semi-competent with them.

"Why?"

"Because that's what it has to do." For whatever reason. McGee could probably explain it, if anyone ever actually wanted to know.

The screen faded in, like the camera had just been turned on. It was an odd angle, low quality, like a webcam or a computer with a built in screen, but all in bright life color. Tony almost wished it was black and white.

There wasn't a background. Black sheets had been hung up to cover everything the camera might use as a clue. It could have been the office next door or a worn down building a hundred miles up the coast for all they knew.

There was McGee, tied with his arms above his head. Dressed in boxers, socks, and an MIT shirt he'd obviously been surprised in bed. It didn't help that it looked like his legs and arms had been burned—Tony could tell from the shine. He just couldn't see if they were blistering or not. There was definitely blood trickling down a nasty looking gash running along McGee's hairline, soaking into the tie that was being used as a blindfold.

"What's going on?" McGee's voice didn't waver, but Tony could tell from the set of the younger agent's jaw that he was afraid. He'd learned to read McGee's body language like a first grade book, anticipate his next thought and move. That's what made good partners.

The way he tilted his head, trying to keep the blood out of his eyes, trying to listen for something. The way his hands kept clenching and unclenching, testing the ropes that held him and relieving stress at the same time.

"I can hear you," McGee spoke again, his voice filling the silence on their end of the computer. "Tell me who you are."

Someone moved on camera. Someone in jeans and a black hoodie, carrying a sledge hammer.

Tony wanted to yell out that Tim run, fight, do something other than stand there and look confused and frightened. The only thing that stopped him was the reminder that he could pause this. It had been filmed before, had already happened, and he could scream all he wanted to but it was too late.

Too late. He should have picked less final sounding words.

The figure moved behind Tim, dragging his pale left hand around Tim's neck. The catch in Tim's breath was visible even with the pixilated camera.

"T-tell me who you are." The slight tremor at the beginning was the only clue to the terror Tony knew McGee was feeling. Unable to see with the blindfold on, probably disoriented from head injury, and knowing he didn't have anyone to help him.

Ziva, apparently, wasn't held back by such restrictions as the fact that McGee couldn't hear them. As the figure picked up his sledgehammer and swung at McGee's left arm, a wordless warning shout escaped her.

The crack and McGee's immediate scream of pain were almost unbearable, but Tony found he could not close his eyes. Somehow, this was for him, and he needed to see.

McGee was thrashing around involuntarily, trying to get the pressure of his body weight off his trapped arm.

"Don't do that, Probie," Tony whispered in spite of himself. He wanted this to stop. This wasn't right. To personal. Too much. "Stop. Stop moving."

The person moved around to the front of the camera. He was shorter than McGee when the young agent was pulled on his tiptoes like he was. Red haired and built like a skeleton.

Tony's breath caught in his throat. He knew that face. Knew that pug nose and those small dark black eyes, though they had sunken far into his skull. The hair was longer, the skin dirtier, but he knew that face and the grin of a job well done. Knew it as well as he knew McGee.

"Hey there, Big D," the man said, jerking McGee's head back with a handful of hair, "remember me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for all the positive support and watches, guys. More answers to come as I continue to push my boundaries. I'm still not completely happy with this chapter. Gibbs is difficult.

_**Semper Frater Meus  
By: Reggie**_

_Chapter 2_

"Tony?" Tim's voice was somewhere between a hopeful whisper and a whimper of pain as his shattered arm was jarred by turning his head, trying to catch the sound of someone else in the room. "Tony, are you here?"

Gibbs glanced down at his senior agent, noting his locked jaw and knuckle white grip on his desk.

This was personal, that much was clear. What wasn't so certain was how this man had decided attacking Tim was the best way to get at Tony. However that decision had been made, they obviously hadn't counted on who else they would be getting involved. There would be blood for this, Gibbs was going to make certain of it.

"Looks like you got a new partner here, Big D." The man grinned at the camera, revealing crooked teeth. "And you didn't learn, did you? You must have questions for me. You want answers; you have twenty four hours to find me." From inside his hoodie, the mysterious man pulled out a gun, and cocked it as he aimed it at McGee's chest. Tony jerked forward, sitting up just a little straighter. "I'll keep him alive for twenty four hours, Tony, but the longer you take the more pieces he'll be in."

"Tony!" McGee's yell was cut short by the video ending.

Gibbs took a breath, reorienting himself, rewriting the lecture he was going to give McGee about how many rules he'd broken that morning into one that would drag Tony back to reality and get him focus. Making a checklist of the things he had to do to get this investigation going. A list of how many way that man could be made to suffer before they handed him over. "Who was that DiNozzo?"

Tony opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, once, before swallowing and trying again. "Sam. His name is Sam."

"And?" He could see why it would be hard for Tony to speak, but they didn't have time for him to be shocked and horrified. That could come later, and Tony should know this by now. "Come on DiNozzo. Everything you know about him. Now."

The order must have been enough to get Tony's brain going, as the words suddenly came spilling out. "Full name is Sam Mondragon. We grew up together. He was a year younger than me. Went to college together. We were in the same Fraternity, everything. He joined the Illinois police the year after I did. We weren't technically partners, but the chief usually assigned us to do stuff together."

"That would make you friends, would it not?" Ziva asked, ignoring the warning look Gibbs sent her direction. He was allowed to push his agents further than they thought they could go. She wasn't.

Ziva simply looked back at him, her dark eyes smoldering with the promise of doing all possible to return McGee to them, at any cost.

"It did." Tony continued, unaware of the silent conversation going on over his head. "We were. But then, someone in the force was working with the drug dealers, and a good narcotics officer was killed. All the evidence…I thought…everyone thought it was Sam."

"How'd he get out of prison?" Keep him focused and talking, any clues might be important. Tony was all they had to go on right now, but that was going to have to quickly change.

"He didn't do it," Tony voice was barely more than an emotionless whisper. "Another officer that was on our team at the time…recently confessed in a suicide note. The evidence was reexamined. Sam was released." Tony's fists tightened again, his knuckles cracking from the stress. "Probie told me last week he thought someone might be stalking him. I laughed. Called him paranoid."

Others might have called it insensitive, but treating Tony with sympathy right now wouldn't help anyone. It would just feed the break down and guilt that would inevitably come of this. Later, he would tell him it wasn't his fault. Be an older friend instead of a boss. But Tony and his emotions couldn't be his priority right now.

If he allowed Tony to feel pity now, he was signing Tim's death warrant. Gibbs refused to do that. As long as there was time on that clock, he wouldn't give up getting his agent back.

So instead of taking the time to tell Tony that it might not have been this Sam person that McGee thought he saw, or remind him that if McGee was really concerned he should have come to Gibbs, he gave him one short smack on the back of the head. If it wasn't as hard as usual, well, he doubted that Tony noticed. "What were you thinking, DiNozzo?"

"He didn't seem worried about it, and I just…I thought he was just stressed. Getting paranoid because of how crazy things have been lately."

More like how crazy things always were for them. Gibbs stood, moving towards his desk. "Ziva, get working on a timeline. I want to know every step this guy took since he left that prison. If he so much as stopped to go to the bathroom, I want to know about it."

Give Ziva something to do. Focus her anger and energy into something productive. Keep her out of his way, so that when rules were broken she wouldn't complain. It was probably an impossible, but if it was, he didn't want to hear about it. They'd needed answers to find McGee—they would find McGee. Figuring out how he'd tracked down Tony was at the top of the list.

Grabbing his phone from his desk, Gibbs smashed down the speed dial button for the Forensic Lab. He didn't want to imagine what Abby's reaction would be to that video. She had a hard enough time just hearing about her friends getting hurt in the field. Watching? Watching Tim? That was something else entirely.

If he could, Gibbs would have found a way to spare her the grizzly task of analyzing that video for any speck of a clue. Her feelings, however, like Tony's, would just have to take a backseat for now. She would understand that.

After two rings, Abby picked up. She sounded cheerful, and he could hear something with a lot of guitar playing in the background. "Hey, Gibbs. Case already?"

Sometimes he hated his job. "We need you to come inspect an e-mail for us, Abs."

"Sure, no problem. But why me? You've got McGee right there. Too much for him?"

"If McGee was here, I wouldn't be calling you. Now get up here."

The other end of the conversation was quiet for a few heartbeats. "Something's wrong, isn't it, Gibbs?"

"Now, Abby. This is important." With nothing else to say, he hung up.

Tony was standing on the other side of his desk, blue eyes wide. "You don't really mean for her to watch that, do you, Gibbs? McGee is her…I mean…he's slept in the coffin."

Not just slept, as Gibbs well knew, but that wasn't really the point. "You have a better idea, DiNozzo? I'd love to hear it."

The younger man seemed to almost wilt before his eyes, shaking his head. Gibbs almost wished he had.

The dinging of the elevator signaled Abby's arrival, and she raced across the bull pen towards them, pigtails flying behind her. "Where's my Timmy, Gibbs?"

"That's what we need you to find out." Putting his hands on her shoulders, Gibbs sat her down in Tony's chair. He didn't remove his hands, either. She might have to watch it, but he wasn't going to leave her alone to do so. "Tony received two videos this morning. We need any clues you can get from analyzing them."

Abby nodded, clicking until Tony's e-mail was brought up again. "You got this one first?"

"Yeah." Tony was at Gibbs's elbow; whether to give comfort or get it, Gibbs couldn't be sure.

Another click brought up the news report again. "I'm here with breaking news from the Silver Springs Apartment Complex. It seems there has been an explosion of some kind, although officials don't know the source just now. The fire seems to have started…"

Abby clicked pause, her normally pale face now all but drained of color. "That's Timmy's place."

"We know, Abs. We could figure that much out."

"He wasn't home, was he?" Abby half turned to look at him, pleading with him. "Please, Gibbs, tell me he wasn't home."

It should have been a comforting statement. In any other situation, he would have been happy to reassure her with it. "He wasn't killed in the explosion," was the best he could do now. From the little he'd seen in the other video, it even seemed likely that he had been home when the fire started.

"The next one popped up almost as soon as I'd opened this one," Tony said, pointing to the next e-mail over Abby's shoulder and drawing her eyes back to the screen. "How would he do that?"

"He being who? These e-mail's are from McGee's account, but I really don't think he'd send you a video of his own apartment on fire." Abby's hands were trembling as she clicked and brought up the second clip.

It was harder to watch the second time. To know what was coming and not be able to do anything about it.

When the sledge hammer was swung, Abby had made a noise that was part scream, part gasp, which she mostly stifled by putting her hands over her mouth. A tear trickled down her cheek, which Gibbs wiped away without comment.

"Who is that, Tony?" She whispered when it was done. Tony had turned his head away at some point, but Gibbs didn't comment on that either. Tony's job with the videos was done. "What does he want with Timmy?"

"To teach me a lesson." Tony growled, his anger returning. Gibbs chose not to comment on that either. An agent after revenge could be dangerous, but anger could also serve to keep you focused. If it would keep Tony going until this was over, he would do all he could to inconspicuously encourage it.

"We need everything you can give us from these e-mails."

"Gibbs…" Abby looked at him, obviously looking for something to say. Some other way to do this.

There wasn't time. "How did he know when Tony accessed the first e-mail to send the second one? Is he watching Tony's computer? Can he see everything we're doing on it?"

"Not likely." She turned back, obviously taking the hint. "He has to be using some kind of e-mail tracking program. There's a bunch of them available online. Companies use them to see how many people click on the junk e-mails they send out, tracking trends and stuff. But anyone can sign up for one, Gibbs."

Abby fidgeted when he shot her a look, trying to show that he was unimpressed with her attitude. She couldn't give up without even trying.

"I mean, maybe," she continued after the pause, "I can trace the IP back to a source, but if this guy is any good he'll know how to mask it and bounce it around. Without McGee here to help me, it could take hours…"

"We don't have hours, Abs. Make it work." She was upset, but if they lost McGee it would be worse.

Seeming to understand this, Abby nodded and leaned forward in Tony's chair. "I might have to take Tony's computer down to my lab, to use some of the programs in my system."

"Then do it. DiNozzo, let's go."

"Where are we going, Boss?" Tony was on his feet, following as swiftly as possible.

"We're going to check what's left of my crime scene before the firemen trample all over it."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **And we're back. Yay! References are made to a handful of episodes here, but all of them are Season 5 or earlier.

_**Semper Frater Meus  
By: Reggie**_

_Chapter 3_

Tony reflexively clutched his knees as the car sped around the corner at an uncomfortably high speed. One of these days, Gibbs was going to kill someone. "You know where you're going, Boss?"

"You've been there a few times yourself, DiNozzo, you tell me. Am I going the right way?"

The casual mention of past trips to McGee's apartment brought back painful memories in an unexpected rush. Flash of McGee's face when he'd said he wasn't like the rest of them. Of harassing McGee about his writing, even though Tony was secretly impressed. The first time he and Kate had broken in, happy to tease their new team member.

Tim had been angry with them that day, making for an awkward car ride until they stopped for coffee and Kate purchased him a double shot espresso. After that, he had been only too happy to give them any details they asked about the game he had been playing. It had, actually, been a fun ride.

Now, he was the only one left.

Feeling suddenly nauseated, he clenched his hands tighter around his knees to keep from revisiting his breakfast. He couldn't do anything to help Kate, then or now, but McGee still had a chance. As long as he kept it together.

"What can you tell me about Sam?" Gibbs asked as he stomped the gas just a little harder, zooming through a yellow light milliseconds before it changed and throwing Tony back in his seat.

After taking a moment to get his breath back, Tony found he could only offer a half-shrug. "Not much. He's been in prison the last few years. Before that, he was a good cop, and a decent friend. The designated driver type."

The kind of guy McGee had become, now that he thought about it. Usually able to hold his own in a teasing fight, even sometimes dishing it out better than he got. But still the kind of guy you could read like a book, who would take off his jacket for a lady to walk across. The all around nice guy that you couldn't decide whether to be friends with or punch.

Now, that first nice guy hurting, killing, the other one. As if there wasn't enough messed up stuff in the world.

"Couldn't have been that good, if you thought he was capable of being dirty."

Tony winced. The reminder of just how wrong he'd been about that was painful. He swallowed thickly, trying to force himself into speech. Wasn't withholding information, no matter how painful it was to say, his biggest annoyance with witnesses? Maybe he'd have to be more patient from now on. "I was the last one to buy in to the idea. Sam was usually so blunt about everything; I just didn't think it was possible for him to do something like that."

"What changed your mind?" Gibbs glanced at him; that split second his eyes were off the road causing Tony's stomach to do flips.

Reminding himself that at least he wasn't driving with Ziva, he answered, "he hit a suspect. Broke his nose and cost us the case. Two days later, he actually seemed glad that Rios was dead—the narcotics cop. It was so unlike him, and with all the evidence, I started wondering."

Gibbs nodded, and Tony released the breath he'd been half-holding. He'd been waiting for a lecture on loyalty and trusting your friends all morning, but it looked like Gibbs was holding off on it for now. Tony had to admit he was grateful for at least that much sympathy. The lecture going on in his head was bad enough.

"Got any ideas where he might take McGee? Any favorite hang outs or hiding places along the east coast?"

"Maybe if I had a time scale or something to go off of, I could narrow it down. It was easier pulling teeth than to get him out of his room." In spite of the situation, in spite of everything, a little lingering affection crept into Tony's voice. Sam had been a bright spot in his childhood, and time hadn't changed the memories. "He loved to read mysteries. He had Encyclopedia Brown memorized as a kid, and always wanted to be a cop."

Gibbs turned to look at him, causing Tony to cringe. "Encyclopedia who?"

"Kids detective books, Boss. They always had the answers in the back, so you could try and figure it out yourself first. Sam never looked until he was sure he had it."

"We only get one shot at this, DiNozzo."

"I know."

They stopped just inches before the emergency barricade, climbing out with badges in hand before the officers started to move.

"Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, NCIS," Gibbs barked, and the young patrolman in front did a double-take. Had he felt in the mood, Tony might have found it funny.

"What's NCIS doin' here at a house fire?" The older looking partner asked, eyeing them warily. He was obviously gearing up for a jurisdiction dispute. "That apartment belong to a sailor?"

"No. An agent." Gibbs didn't pause to explain, and Tony followed silently in his wake. Hassling these rookies would only waste time, and no matter how fun that sounded he wasn't willing to do that today. It was likely to take them more than an hour to comb the scene. McGee couldn't afford many more injuries like the first one.

"You can't go in there." The pair of officers was following them, old gruffy still speaking for both of them. "They barely put the flames out, there are still hot spots."

Tony turned and glared his best Gibbs glare, causing the pair to falter just long enough for Gibbs to reach a huddle of firemen standing nearby.

"I need to speak with the Fire Marshall." It was Gibbs's best no nonsense voice, and everyone in hearing distance snapped to attention. Tony couldn't help admiring that skill.

A man in a dark uniform strode toward them with an air of authority that could rival the director. Might even give Gibbs a run for his money. "You must be Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo. Special Agent David said you were already on your way, but I didn't expect you to get here that quickly."

Gibbs didn't miss a beat. "And who are you?"

"The Fire Marshall you were looking for. John Mason at your service, Agent Gibbs." Even with his hands in his pockets and that easy smile, Tony could tell this guy was never at anyone's service.

This was going to be fun.

"You called NCIS to tell us about this." It wasn't a question, and it was very clear Gibbs wasn't happy about it.

"Right after we contacted the family. His sister is already here." Mason nodded over to where Sarah McGee was standing.

She looked even worse than the last time Tony had seen her, and he marveled a little that her older brother's apartment being on fire would shake her up more than being accused of murder had. She looked pale, and there were obvious tear streaks on her face from left over salt. One hand over her mouth, her dark eyes watched the still rising smoke with a look of horror.

"We called NCIS to see if Agent McGee was at work when the fire started," Tony heard Mason say as he made his way toward the frightened girl. "I take it from your presence here that he wasn't."

"No. But he wasn't home either." Gibbs answer was just background noise to Tony as he reached out to touch Sarah's shoulder.

She jumped, startled at his touch, and whirled around. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats before she launched herself at him, wrapping skinny arms around his middle. Tony jerked, surprised by her sudden action, and made no attempt to return the embrace. It was his fault McGee might never get to yell at him for touching his sister.

"Tell me he's alright," Sarah muttered, sounding a little too much like Abby, a little too much like a little sister, tightening her grip just a little. "I need you to tell me he's okay. That he sent you here to take me back to school to take my midterm. Please, Tony."

He wished she'd called him Tommy. Then he could pretend that this was happening to someone else, or that they weren't close enough for him to owe her some kind of explanation. Except she'd learned his name, and for some reason that made all the difference.

"He wasn't home when it happened." It surprised even him how steady his voice sounded. Surprised him even more that he almost wished Tim had been, because a sudden violent death was so much better. "At least, he wasn't killed in the explosion if he was."

Sarah pulled back, obviously realizing Tony wasn't going to give her any of the comfort she wanted. "I don't like the way you said that. It sounds like something else killed him."

Leave it to an English major to pick up on that. Tony felt unsure, and he hated it because normally he just knew the right way to go. What did you tell your best friend's little sister when he'd be kidnapped? What was he allowed to say? "He's not dead, Sarah. He's in trouble, but we're going to help him. I promise."

"What kind of trouble? What happened to Tim?" She took another step back, clutching her short jean jacket closer to her body, fighting off an imagined chill.

"I can't tell you." Even if it wasn't classified, he just couldn't get the words up. It was like any vocabulary that was McGee related had been locked up somewhere he couldn't access. Didn't really want to.

The conversation of Gibbs and the Fire Marshall came out of the background noise in a sudden rush.

"I'm not waiting around here for your Fire Investigator to show up." Gibbs sounded angry. Never a good thing to be at the receiving end of.

By contrast, Mason sounded completely calm. "This isn't just a crime scene. We have to find the source of the explosion, and we can't have you removing anything that might help to determine that. As Agent McGee is a federal agent, it is even more important we find the exact cause. You understand this, don't you, Agent Gibbs?"

"It wasn't a terrorist attack." Gibbs said flatly, and Tony could just see the ears of the woman standing a few feet from him perk up. Reporter.

"I didn't say it was," Mason said, his tone deliberately light. "You sound so certain though. How can you be sure?"

"Because I've got video of the guy that did it." Gibbs matched the other man's light tone, though his had a certain edge of steel to it. Sarah perked up now at this, listening intently, and Tony had to resist the urge to drag her away. She should know what they were dealing with, even if Tony couldn't tell her.

Mason, too, seemed to suddenly be paying attention. "He contacted you?"

"And I have twenty-four hours to find my agent." Gibbs leaned close to the other man, deliberately invading his space. "You want to be the one I hold responsible for the loss of my agent; you go ahead and keep getting in my way."

Mason visibly flinched, and Tony couldn't stop a grin. Fire Marshall Mason might not admit it, but Gibbs had just won.

"The Fire Inspector is going with you. She'll have to approve anything you take. If she doesn't, you leave it and take pictures."

"We'll see as we go," Gibbs responded, his grin becoming almost predatory.

"Jethro!" Sarah's half-delighted yell surprised Tony to the point that he jumped. Gibbs turned to give the girl a strange look, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were riveted towards one of the bushes beside the apartment, where a dog head was just visible peeking out the bottom.

McGee's dog. He hadn't given the German Sheppard a thought all morning. Of course he would have been there when Sam came for McGee. It was just surprising that the dog was still alive. Most people didn't get as many chances as that dog.

Sarah raced toward the dog, ducking under the caution tape without losing a beat. Tony hurried after her, ignoring the firemen calling for them to stop. Sarah slowed down as she approached the dog, and Tony took his cue from her, kneeling down when she did.

"Hey, Jethro," Sarah murmured, brushing a stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear before slowly extending a hand out to the dog. Seeing blood on Jethro's muzzle, and knowing his history, Tony braced himself for snarling and a quick snap of powerful jaws. Instead, the dog whined softly, looking up at the pair of them with woeful eyes. He leaned forward, trying to lick Sarah's hand, but seemed unable to.

Tony leaned forward, pulling back the foliage to reveal the rest of the dog's body. His front left shoulder was covered in blood, likely from the deep gash there. It was wide enough he could even see the dog's bone below. Jethro's fur was also patchy, with some severe looking burns, and he didn't seem able to move his back legs. The blood could have been from licking at any one of his numerous small cuts, but there was no way Tony could say for sure.

"Abby isn't going to like this," Tony muttered, absentmindedly reaching out to lay a hand on the dog's head. Having McGee in trouble was difficult enough for her to cope with, but her beloved puppy? This was going to be over the top.

"Poor Jethro," Sarah said softly, carefully running a hand over the injured dog's muzzle by his eyes, obviously avoiding the blood.

"Call Palmer." Gibbs's voice behind them startled Tony and Sarah, but Jethro greeted him with a half-hearted tail wag. "I want him to go with the dog to a vet. Get all the evidence off him he can. Give him a call, then get suited up. We're going to get the evidence."

"On it, Boss." Tony gave Sarah a sympathetic look, and Jethro one last pat, before standing up to get his phone out of his pocket.

Half-way up, Sarah reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. "Tony…find Tim. Please. He's my brother, and I want him home safe."

His instincts told him that making such a promise was unwise. That he was bound to let her down somehow. Instead, Tony found himself nodding, even reaching out to squeeze her hand back. "I promise I'll get him back to you. No matter what."


End file.
